


The Oak Tree

by Sheepnamedpig



Series: Love in the Groves [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Magic, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-25
Updated: 2012-06-25
Packaged: 2017-11-08 13:34:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/443724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sheepnamedpig/pseuds/Sheepnamedpig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A forest spirit decides to take up residence in Derek's forest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Oak Tree

**Author's Note:**

> I Sterek'd. Whoops?
> 
> Unbeta'd.

Derek senses the forest spirit's arrival almost instantly. The whole forest seems to sigh around him, branches rustling in a wind that wasn't there a moment ago. Some trees even sprout fresh flowers and leaves even though it's already late summer. The slow-rolling wave of the spirit's power follows soon after and Derek turns his face into it, smelling the fresh green life as young shoots of grass spring up around him through the detritus of last year's leaves.

He follows the scent of new growth deeper into the forest, going deeper in than the Hale pack's territory ever reached, and deeper still until he reaches the very heart of the forest. The scent of life is overpowering here, so thick that flowers and grass grow on the patches of dirt and mud on his pants and shoes.

He stops.

Up ahead is a cluster of trees, their trunks and roots too close together to be natural. The scent is even stronger there, so Derek steps closer and slides sideways through the narrow gaps between the trunks.

There's a clearing, carpeted with fresh green grass. And spread out on the grass, face down, is the naked body of a young man.

Derek blinks and tries to sniff through the scent of life for the reek of death, but the body moves and stretches against the carpet of grass. Derek hears lips smacking and muffled mumbling and then the young man rolls over onto his back, starfishing out over the soft grass, unabashedly nude.

He finally gets a look at the young man's face and has to revise his age estimate down. Way down. Christ, this kid must be barely fourteen. Then he has to revise it back up because the boy reaches for his cock and there's no way a fourteen year-old would be that shameless, right? Right? And then he remembers himself at fifteen, remembers meeting Kate and all the stupid, stupid things he'd done to get her attention, and forces himself to stop thinking about it.

It helps that there's suddenly an oak sapling where there wasn't one before. Sometime during Derek's stumble down memory lane, the boy has stroked his cock from soft to mostly hard and the sapling has sprung up out of the ground next to him, dead center in the clearing. The scent of new life gets even stronger until Derek feels like his lungs are going to be stained green from all the power in the air.

The boy palms himself to full hardness just as the sapling unfurls a modest crop of young leaves. For a second, everything goes still as the boy's hand rests at the base of his cock. And then the whole forest seems to take a deep breath as the boy curls his fingers into a fist around the shaft. The boy pulls up along his cock and sweeps his thumb over the blunt head and there's a surge of energy that rushes into the clearing, the power so dense in the air that every hair on Derek's body stands on end.

The sapling jerks like it's been hit, or maybe hit by a bag of instant-grow fertilizer, because it starts putting out new branches and leaves like it can't grow them fast enough. The trunk thickens and stretches upward, branches erupting outward and reaching for the sunlight, and all the while, the boy is fisting his cock in earnest.

The boy raises his other hand from where it's been clinging to the grass and reaches between his legs to fondle his balls and the tree jerks again, putting out a small crop of acorns that fall to the grass while they're still small and green. The sparse shade under the tree grows until the boy is completely shadowed, then begins to reach out across the clearing as the main boughs thicken and put out new branches. Derek doesn't notice because he's too busy watching the boy collect a clear liquid from a flower that has sprung up beside him. And then the boy is reaching between his thighs, his feet planted firmly on the grass, and his fingertips brush against his scrotum and keep going, down, until Derek loses sight of the hand. Another small crop of young acorns rains down onto the clearing, a few of them landing just shy of where Derek is standing.

Derek's breath seems to seize in his lungs and he reaches behind him to lean up against one of the trees bordering the clearing. His fingers meet empty air and he looks behind him.

The tree line is ten feet away. Except, Derek knows he hasn't moved an inch since he first stepped into the clearing. Knows because the morning glory that sprouted from a patch of dirt trapped in his shoelaces has taken root amidst the grass of the clearing, anchoring him to the place where he stopped. And as he watches, the tree line seems to creep further away, as if making space for the oak whose branches now stretch over Derek's head, sheltering him in its deepening shade.

Derek turns back to the boy. He's close, precome dripping onto his belly and his hips jerking every time his fingers brush over his prostate. Derek swallows the saliva that gathers in his mouth.

“Come,” he whispers.

The boy's head tips toward Derek and his eyes open for the first time since Derek discovered him. His hand speeds up on his cock, the one between his legs working faster and reaching deeper.

“Come,” Derek repeats, voice rasping in his throat.

Pale toes curl tightly into the grass and the boy's body curls up off the grass as he shouts, coming harder than Derek has ever seen anyone come before. He writhes like he's being tortured, fist and fingers still moving as he works himself through his orgasm. A massive crop of green acorns rains down from above and Derek wants to throw his head back and howl in victory, but the boy's hands are slowing down, his body shivering from the aftershocks as silence and stillness return to the clearing, the built-up energy dispersing back into the forest.

There's a quiet sigh as the boy, the _forest spirit,_ eases his fingers out of his ass.

“I'm pretty sure I'm the one who's supposed to be giving the orders around here, seeing as I'm further up on the magical-creature totem pole,” the forest spirit snarks. “And aren't you supposed to be a little more grateful that I've come back to this to set up shop in?”

“I don't take orders from fourteen year-olds,” Derek replies, ignoring the boy's yelp of protest as he tries to pull his feet free of the tangled mess of morning glory. The vines cling stubbornly to his jeans, but obligingly uproot themselves from the ground, leaving Derek mobile but with ten pounds of flora strapped to his legs. He shuffles over to where the boy lies cradled in the roots of the massive oak tree and drops to his knees next to him as he states, quite proudly, that he is “ _sixteen_ , asshole, and now is about the time for you to start groveling before I pack up and find some other forest to haunt.”

Derek shrugs because he doesn't actually care. There are more interesting things to do, like pick up the forest spirit's hand and suck the long fingers into his mouth to clean off the sweet, lubricating sap.

“Oh my god, what the hell are you doing? Those were just up my butt!” the forest spirit yelps.

“Don't care,” Derek growls around the long fingers. He pulls them out of his mouth and slides his tongue between the fingers, lapping up every last trace of the sap.

“Oh god, that's so gross,” the spirit whispers. Derek looks up at him from under his eyebrows, fully aware of how it makes him look. “Don't stop though, 'cause it's really fucking hot, too.”

Derek nips at his fingers and makes a show of laving the palm clean. “Hot enough to make you stay?”

“I'll think about it,” the spirit babbles, but Derek can smell his arousal, or what he suspects is arousal: a burst of raw life, bright and clean and full of limitless potential.

Derek picks up the spirit's other hand and guides a come-streaked finger into his mouth. The flavor bursts on his tongue, potent but not sweet like he'd expected it to be. He can't quite pin the taste down, but it somehow tastes like a new shoot pushing up out of scorched earth or a flower growing in a fissure of a rock. It tastes like something unstoppable and inevitable and something in Derek shivers and rolls over.

He takes his time licking the forest spirit clean, lapping up every drop of come and even turning him over to clean the sap from the cleft of his pert ass. And when he is convinced that the forest spirit is clean, he strips off his clothes and gives the kid a warm (or as the forest spirit will later say, sun-scorchingly hot) welcome, sheltering him from the rain of ripened acorns with his own body.


End file.
